The End
1
“Are you ready to begin?”
The commander nodded, lighting a cigarette. The interviewer started recording.
“What’s his real name?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you just call him 36?”
“Yes.”
“Why 36? Does it have any special meaning?”
“We’ve had setbacks.”
“You want me to leave that out of the interview?”
“Yes. This won’t go official until we’ve cracked the technology.”
“Why not astronauts?”
“Prisoners are cheaper.”
“But how do you get them to do it?”
“They don’t really have any bargaining power.”
“How many have been successful so far?”
The commander was silent, but his distant stare spoke of grim experiments.
“I see.” He put down his recorder and looked at the data on the walls: text flowing from screen to screen, so much information. “Is it instantaneous?”
“Beyond the speed of light. The science behind it is hit and miss, but we are close.”
“How does it work?”
“Fermat’s theory.”
“Can you explain that in layman’s terms?”
“Light takes the path that requires the least amount of time.”
“How does that relate to travel? You find the quickest route?”
“you’re missing the initial point.”
“Which is?”
“In order for light to move, it needs to know its final destination.”
“I’m not following.”
The commander let out a long puff of smoke, it swirled between them.
“Light knows where it’s going before it starts to move. We tap into that knowledge, the location held within the light, and we transmit to that location.”
“Sorry,” the interviewer held up his hand, face tight in confusion “transmit?”
“We teleport.”
The interviewer sat silent for a moment.
“Does it hurt?”
“I don’t know. We’ll find that out when the test subject returns.”
“Where have you telep- transmitted this subject?”
The commander stubbed out his cigarette and looked at its twisted remains before answering.
“The end of the universe.”
The reporter sat back, eyes wide.
“Holy shit,” his hand faltered over the stop button, but he retracted it, pushing on with the interview, “have you succeeded?”
“We’ll know if the subject returns in one piece.”
“When is he due?”
“Anytime now.”
2
The interviewer read over the man’s record.
No chance for parole. No wonder he’d done this, anything was better than staying in the hell hole he’d been trapped in.
He imagined what it was like, not having that freedom. The inability to walk outside and feel the sunlight on your face.
Then he returned.
The room seemed to distort, then pulsed back to semi normal, the violation of physics reverberating in the air around them.
The interviewer felt stiff and he could taste the coppery tang of blood inside his head. This wasn’t something that was meant to happen.
the metallic pod berthed in front of them. Heat emanated from the rivets and seams.
The pod door opened, revealing a pilot. He looked older than the picture on his profile.
The team immediately got to work. They rushed over and checked on him – vital signs, radiation, flashing lights in his eyes. They pulled him out and checked everything.
The commander stood up and approached, waiting just a few feet from him, the group of assistants leaving one by one, their checks finished with a shout of “Clear!”
That left only one more, checking his eyes.
“Doctor, is he ok?”
“Yes, he’s fine.”
The commander rushed forwards.
“What did you see?”
The pilot looked up at him, saying nothing.
“36, Can you speak?”
36 looked at the faces in the room, the interviewer sat spellbound. This man had travelled further than anyone in the history of humanity, yet he was a prisoner serving a life sentence.
“Why isn’t he talking?” the commander said. The doctor shook his head.
“All of his vitals are-“
“I’m Fine.” Said the 36. He reached forward to the commander “Cigarette?”
The commander passed one to him. His trembling hands dropped the lighter. 36 picked it up and lit it himself.
“What did you see?” The commander asked.
36 shook his head.
The commander stepped back, dumbfounded. The interviewer watched, eyes wide. This was incredible.
“36, What did you see?”
He took a huge drag on the cigarette, tipped it up, and looked at the smoke trailing from the tip.
“Tell me what you saw!” Shouted the commander.
He stopped and turned to the seething man towering over him.
“You don’t want to know.”
The reporter held his recorder closer with shaky hands.
“36, you will tell me, or our deal is off.”
36 began stripping pieces of his equipment off, clunking as they hit the ground.
The reporter looked into the pilot’s eyes. He’d seen something that nobody else had ever seen, or could even conceive of. He’d witnessed it and didn’t care to disclose it, even if it meant giving up his one chance of freedom.
“36, you will tell me exactly what you saw, now,” the commander’s voice was ice cold, “or I’ll make sure that you never get out of prison.”
36 took another drag on his cigarette.
The commander’s face drained of colour.
“I’ll keep you locked up until you die. And then I’ll have your ashes mixed in with cement and put into the walls. You’ll never leave your cell, even in death.”
36 stubbed out the cigarette and pulled out another.
Enraged, the commander continued. “Your wife will go to jail, and your children too. They’ll be in solitary confinement and never see anyone again. Do you hear me? They’ll never see another living soul.”
36 looked at the commander. The reporter’s heart stopped.
“My kids?”
“Yes, your kids.”
He looked down at the ground, considering something. He returned to the commander. All eyes in the room were burning into him.
“Fine.”
The commander’s eyes were bulging. The reporter’s heart strained in his chest. Only the slight hum of the computers’ cooling fans could be heard.
“What. Did. You. See?” Asked the commander. Each word was pregnant with malice.
36 smiled. “Alright. I’ll tell you.” He stubbed out his cigarette. Looking around the room, he ensured that all eyes were on him for his big announcement.
“Bars.”
The commander blinked, he shook his head in disbelief. “What?”
“Like the ones in my cell, but as far as I could see.”
Total silence in the room.
The prisoner turned to the commander.
“Are you going to send me back to my cell, or should I stay in yours?”